Breaking Away (31 page)

She’d never seen him vacillate about anything before. She studied his expression.

“You can’t say anything to anyone about this,” he said, his expression grave.

He was actually confiding in her. “I understand.”

“Because it wasn’t a military-sanctioned mission, I’ve not been ordered to keep it top secret, but since it may affect you down the line, I feel I need to give you a heads up.”

She nodded. “How would it affect us?”

He looked toward the pool. “I made a mistake with Brett Weaver, Marsha. He was fighting his way back to his team and I just kept piling shit in his way. I tried to run him out of the teams. I looked at his medical report and decided he was no longer fit to be a SEAL.”

“He saved our lives,” she said.

“Yeah. When shit hit the fan, he did what he was trained to do.” He cleared his throat and set aside his glass. He opened the grill and took the steaks off to put them on individual plates with the baked potatoes he’d already fixed. “You get the wine, I’ll get these.”

With both glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, she joined him at the table. Her thoughts raced as she tried to figure out who he was talking about from the scuttlebutt she’d heard. They sat and he reached for the wine to top off their glasses.

He’d never tell her who the team member was unless she guessed. And now he’d started, her interest was piqued. “It’s J.G. Carney, isn’t it?”

His gaze leaped to her face. “I can’t tell you who.”

She nodded, but she could tell from his reaction her guess was correct. She placed a napkin in her lap and picked up her knife and fork.

“Things went south during a drop he was doing for the FBI, and the men he was dealing with tried to kill him. He’s been AWOL ever since, and he’s just recently surfaced.”

More interested in what he was saying than her food, she laid aside her knife and reached for her glass again. “Was he injured?”

“Yeah. He was pretty banged up, but he’s recovered now.” He chewed a bite of steak and swallowed. “He’s reached out to me for help, Marsha.”

Concern revved through her. “What kind of help?”

“He’s been listed as AWOL for seven months. But he’s been on the run from some very bad guys. I believe that NCIS is using him as bait to draw a rouge FBI agent out, and the FBI is using him as bait for some very dangerous people.”

Her mouth went so dry she couldn’t swallow and had to take another healthy swig of wine to wash down the bite of salad. “Is it al Qaeda?”

“No. It’s a Mexican drug cartel.”

Her face felt numb. Wasn’t that just as bad? “What does he expect you to do?”

“To stay on NCIS’s ass and try to get them involved in the investigation he’s running on the man responsible for the attack on him. I had a meeting with the agents this morning. All they’re interested in is arresting him for AWOL—if they can find him. But what they were really saying was that they were waiting for shit to hit the fan so they could ride in on his coattails and catch the man who double-crossed him.”

“And what about the FBI?”

“I got the feeling they’re running their own investigation.”

“So, that leaves Flash on his own. What’s to keep him from being killed before they can run to the rescue?”

“Exactly.” He set aside his knife and fork and leaned his elbows on the table. “I want to try and bring him home, Marsha.”

“How do you propose to do it?” An uneasiness took up residence along the back of her neck, as though someone had blown against the fine hairs there.

“When he contacts me again, I’m going to try to talk him into coming in. I’ll speak to the commander about working something out about the AWOL charge. Since he was working for the FBI when all this went down, we can cut him orders to reflect that and rescind the charges.”

“Can you do that?”

“I hope so. A ten-month unsanctioned absence could end his career.”

“How can they blame him for something he had no control over? He’s been injured, and his life has been in danger.”

James ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, and, propping his elbow on the table, rested his head in his hand for a moment. “The reasons don’t matter. The only thing that will matter to HQ is that he’s been gone for ten months.”

The injustice of that sparked her outrage. “That isn’t reasonable.”

“Everything is cut and dried in the military, Marsha. You’re either there to do a job or you’re not. The reasons behind your absence don’t matter.”

She shook her head. “Even though he’s done his job for years and put his life on the line?”

“Even though.”

“But it isn’t fair. They expect you to be loyal to them, but where is their loyalty to you?”

He laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “No it isn’t fair, and it has nothing to do with loyalty, sweetheart, just duty. He’s been derelict in his duty.”

“You have to do something.”

“I’m going to try.” He picked up his fork. “But if I take a firm stand, things could get rocky for me, for us.” His brown eyes looked dark, his jaw set in lines of determination she’d seen numerous times before. “That’s why I’m telling you all this.”

Would it be so bad for him not to be a SEAL anymore? Or for him not to have to play the politics that went with command and promotion?

To reach for his hand seemed natural for the first time in months. When they’d first met she’d been drawn to his strong, masculine looks, his imposing bearing. His eyes, so deep a brown, looked like dark, rich chocolate. His already-graying hair gave him a distinguished appearance. His hands were wide across his palm, his fingers, long and nimble, were strong and manly.

“I made a mistake with Brett Weaver. I don’t want to do the same with this man. From his reports, the evidence he’s sent me, I really do believe he was set up and only his training saved him from being murdered.”

“Could the FBI intercede on his behalf?”

“They could weigh in, but it probably wouldn’t make much difference. It falls under military jurisdiction since he’s signed a contract with the Navy.”

“If he can prove the FBI hired him to do this, with his commanding officer’s backing, would it smooth the way?”

“I never spoke with the FBI, but they did talk with Captain Morrow, the base commander.”

“But he truly believed it had gone through channels?” she asked.

“Yes, he did. Flash received an email saying his orders had been changed.”

“But they hadn’t.”

He shook his head. “I never put in the paperwork because I knew nothing about it.”

It sounded like Flash was SOL no matter what he did. The thought sent blood rushing to her face. How long had it been since she was seriously upset on another person’s behalf? She’d been so caught up in her own cares that it had left little room for anyone else. What kind of person had she become? “How do you think he’s been living?”

“I don’t know, but he has serious skills, and he adapts. If he’d used his name anywhere the FBI would have been able to find him instantly. That means he’s either going by an alias or he’s flying under the radar.”

“Poor fellow. Everything he’s depended on, everyone he’s depended on is out of reach.” What would she have done had she not had a support network after Alex’s birth? After the attack? The other wives had rallied around her, just as the men had reached out in support of James. The SEALs and their families were an extended family.

“Do whatever you have to do to get him home safe. Then we’ll deal with the rest after.”

“I’ll clean up. You go ahead and finish your wine,” James said as they rose to stack the dishes.

“I need to check on Alex.”

“I’ll do it. He seems to be sleeping well. And you have the monitor.” They needed to concentrate on them for a while. Alex was doing fine for the present. Much better than seven months ago. But he didn’t have to be told their relationship had been getting worse every day.

He made short work of scraping the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, then scrubbed the grill utensils and left them in the drainer to dry.

He crept down the hall and into his son’s room. Standing over the crib, he watched the rise and fall of Alex’s chest. After the first six months, he’d begun to sleep more soundly at night and usually woke at five when James was up to give him a fresh diaper and a bottle.

He was getting more and more personality every day, and they were getting to know him better. He smiled often. Cried less. And was content to lie in his crib and play with his toes before and after sleep.

But there were more issues than just his heart. He wasn’t reaching the milestones a normal baby did. He was at least three months behind with his physical development. It had taken him longer to hold up his head and at ten months he was just learning to sit up.

Marsha was doing exercises doctor had suggested with Alex every day to help strengthen his muscles and encourage his development. She had devoted her every waking moment to him since his birth, but that had to end if they were going to make it as a couple.

They had to have time for them.

He’d thought she’d withdrawn from him because of his failure to protect her. After her admission earlier this morning he understood it wasn’t that simple. But she still loved him didn’t she? Otherwise she wouldn’t still be here. Armed with that knowledge, he was determined to find a way to woo her back to their life and their physical relationship.

James left the baby’s room. Though he’d done it earlier, he checked the front door to make certain it was locked, and then the door that led into the garage. She had her issues and he had his. He often rose at night to check the windows and doors to make sure the house was secure. They’d put in an alarm system as well, but he couldn’t arm it until they settled in for the night.

He gathered his CD player and a few disks from his office and took them outside. He set the player on the sideboard, plugged it in, popped in the disk, and pushed play. The smoky voice of Nina Simone floated around the pool. The scent of chlorine blended with the sweet smell of the clematis blooming on a trellis against the privacy fence that surrounded the pool.

Marsha sat at the foot of one of the lounges, cradling her wine glass between her hands. The sun had gone down and the lights had kicked on around the pool.

“He’s sleeping well and his breathing is regular,” he announced as he stretched out on one of the bright red lounges.

“I put your wine on the table there.” She pointed to the small table between their lounges.

She seemed so far away. So withdrawn from him. How could he chip away the distance she’d placed between them?

“How can you bear to swim in the pool?” she asked.

He had to think for a minute before he realized what she meant. “It wasn’t the pool that tried to kill us, Marsha. It was Tabarek Moussa.”

She remained silent for a moment. “Is that how you get through deployments in those Godforsaken places? Focus on the people instead of the location?”

She had never spoken about his job like this. “Yeah. Most people are just trying to live their lives,
just live
, honey. It’s a small percentage who are trying to harm anyone.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He drew a deep breath. “Will you come over here so we can lie together?”
Like we used to.

She rose and set aside her wine glass. James eased the back of the lounge down a notch and spread his legs. Marsha crawled between and turned on her hip to lie against him. He draped his arm around her and cuddled her close.

Her weight resting against him felt right. The tension knotting his stomach and shoulder muscles relaxed a bit. “I’ve missed this,” he said, smoothing her hair. He studied the tension in the hand she rested on the arm of the lounge. “Remember that bed and breakfast where we spent a week near Snow Mountain?”

“I remember we were supposed to hike a lot and instead spent the week in our room.”

“I’d been to a twelve-week training. It was the first time we’d been apart since the wedding.”

“You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?”

He smiled. “No. I wouldn’t say the sounds you made were complaints.”

She slapped his arm. A moment of silence fell between them and she broke it. “I know I’ve changed since then. I used to be fearless.”

His arm tightened around her. “We’ve both changed since then. It’s been ten years. No one remains static.” But she’d been doing fine until Alex’s birth and—

“I don’t suppose so.”

“Maybe once Alex has his surgery and is on the mend you can go back to work…if you want to. You’re really good with the therapy you do with him each morning. Maybe you could go back to school and do something like that if you don’t want to do the CPA gig anymore.”

“Maybe.”

Well, at least she didn’t dismiss either suggestion out of hand.

“When I watch you exercise his joints and get him to laugh, I’m amazed at how patient you are.”

“James—” She gripped his shirt and turned her face against him. He couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying. “I know you’re trying to be supportive, but you’re about as subtle as an elephant’s rump.”

He laughed. “Subtle isn’t my strong suit.” He kissed the top of her head and breathed in the apple scent of her shampoo. “I just know that if I didn’t have a goal to focus on, I wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Getting up and going to work has helped me.”